But Why Me?
by Remo Con
Summary: But why me' Jonathan asked. 'Because you can love me,' Imhotep answered. But Jonathan still couldn't understand him and stood, looking into the high priet's eyes in confusion. JonathanImhotep slash rating subject to change
1. Chapter 1

_**Disclaimer: I am in no way affiliated with Universal. I also in no way own any part of The Mummy (excluding The Mummy Returns on video…yes, video). What a clear signs of this? Well, Rick and Arteth never made out. Arteth and Jonathan never made out. Arteth and Imhotep never made out. Rick and Imhotep never made out. Jonathan and Imhotep never made out. Rick and Jonathan never made out. In fact, there was no guys making out at all. –sigh- what a waste…**_

**PLEASE NOT FOR THE PURPOSE OF THE STORY (because I don't write Ancient Egyptian) THAT ANYTHING SAID IN ANCIENT EGYPTIAN WILL BE WRITTEN IN **_ITALICS_**! Other than that, I think its pretty easy to understand.**

_Prologue:_

There came a time in life when you just had to admit that good fortune wasn't on your side. An excellent time to come to this decision was seeing an ancient evil high priest- who by all rights was supposed to be very dead by now- standing on the outskirts of Cairo, Egypt, after having seen him being sucked down into hell for the second time three years ago. Yes, that was the perfect time to admit that to yourself. And the perfect time to experience a minor panic attack.

Jonathan couldn't believe it. He wasn't supposed to see things like this now- no, he was just suppose to pick up some obscure artifact for Evie from some obscure Egyptian museum, and then he was suppose to go back to England and continue on in life the way the liked- that is to say without the threat of eternal darkness coupled with a sudden painful death. Maybe if he rubbed his eyes hard enough they would become so blurry that he could convince himself that he had just been seeing things. Or better yet he could just forget about it without causing himself to go blind.

Surely no one could expect him to do anything about Imhotep. Honestly, who would expect him to stand up to him? He could call Rick and Evie, and they would take care of it. Yes, it was their problem. If the mummy was alive again, then surely _they_ had something to with it. It had nothing to do with him. He would call them and then everything would be back to normal.

He leaned back into the seat of the car and breathed a sigh of relief, wiping the sweat off his brow. That had been a tense moment. But everything was good now. He just had to go get that blasted artifact because he could just hear Evie refusing to come if he didn't get it. His sister was such a difficult person.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………

"Here you go," the curator of the museum said in heavily accented English. He reminded Jonathan horribly of the former curator of the British museum, right down to the enormous robes that seemed to be somewhat of a bad idea in the Egyptian heat. "The artifact."

"Thank you," Jonathan said, looking down at what had been placed in his hand. He really hoped it wasn't what he thought it was. Surely Evie hadn't sent him for a mummified hand clutching a rusty dagger. Surely not.

Trying his best to repress a shudder he quickly wrapped it up and stuck it into the box offered to him. With a quick nod to the curator, who bowed in return, he all but dashed out the small museum. His Egyptian might be all but non-existent, but he was fairly certain that the museum was calling itself House of Dead and Decay, which he personally felt was a little bit more than creepy.

The cab driver was waiting patiently for him outside, standing in front of the cab in the sweltering heat. Jonathan groaned. That meant that the car was even hotter. Bloody brilliant.

"Next time you can come get the damn artifact yourself," he said under his breath. So what if they kicked him out? He could get his own apartment. And a job…it was a short leash they held him on.

"To the hotel?" the driver inquired. Jonathan nodded. Ah, the hotel. What a lovely place. Fans, food, and women. It was possibly the best place in all of Cairo.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………

He paid the cab driver, who drove away with a ridiculously happy look on his face that made Jonathan worry that he might have seriously over-paid the driver. He didn't understand why he wasn't allowed to use pounds, he understood those! So, with a sinking feeling in his stomach (he was going to get yelled at if he had just blown a small fortune on the cab) he trudged back into the hotel.

It was almost completely empty. All the girls –er, people- were gone. The bar tender was no where to be seen, and the elevator now had an out of order sign handing on it.

"What lousy service," Jonathan grumbled, completely oblivious to the fact that something was clearly wrong, as he started up the stairs.

The package weighed more than you would have thought. Jonathan was breathing heavily by the second flight of stairs. He might have been a little out of shape, but this was definitely the last time he requested a room on the highest floor available.

Up four more flights of stairs and he was staggering, clutching with one hand onto the package and the other gripping the railing, his knuckles white as he tried to hold himself up. He collapsed on the landing and lay there for a couple moments, thanking the heavens that he only had to walk to the first door on the left and then no more walking was required of him.

He sucked in a huge breath and forced himself up. The door was right there…and it was slightly open.

"Who's in there?" he demanded as he pushed the door open. "You had better be the cleaning staff, or I warn you I am trained in several different forms of martial arts and-"

Imhotep looked him straight in the eye, unimpressed.

"Oh dear," Jonathan whispered faintly. Well this was it. Goodbye world, he thought bleakly. This was how he was going to die.

But the mummy made no move toward him.

"_Why am I here?"_ Imhotep asked.

"Er, I don't really speak ancient Egyptian," Jonathan confessed. Imhotep took a step closer. Jonathan flinched and held the package a little tighter.

"_Why am I here?"_ Imhotep repeated. "_Why?"_

_**Author Notes: Well, this is and Imhotep/Jonathan fic- the first I believe on (yay for me) if I'm not, then I apologize to whoever was. But I'm pretty sure I am. I can't say I expect many reviews on this, its kind of an odd couple, and the Mummy doesn't seem to be a terribly popular kind of fanfiction…I only found 7 slash fics when I searched- 7! I was devastated…so I wrote my own. That's the brilliant thing about snow days, they give you time to re-watch movies, and write fanfics…-grins- so it's all good Remo**_

**Oh, and if you don't review, I will track you down with the Millennium Ring and then use the Millennium Rod on you, so you'll end up reviewing anyway (pardon the Yu-Gi-Oh reference) so you might as well save me the trouble and review before I'm forced to do that. **

**Little bunny foo foo walking through the field….or was it garden? I think it was field….oh no wait, he was hopping! Yes, little bunny foo foo was hopping! And another of the worlds mysteries is solved.**


	2. Chapter 2

_**Disclaimer: I am in no way affiliated with Universal. I also in no way own any part of The Mummy (excluding The Mummy Returns on video…yes, video and as of slightly after Christmas, The Mummy of dvd). What a clear signs of this? Well, Rick and Ardeth never made out. Ardeth and Jonathan never made out. Ardeth and Imhotep never made out. Rick and Imhotep never made out. Jonathan and Imhotep never made out. Rick and Jonathan never made out. In fact, there were no guys making out at all. –sigh- what a waste…**_

**PLEASE NOT FOR THE PURPOSE OF THE STORY (because I don't write Ancient Egyptian) THAT ANYTHING SAID IN ANCIENT EGYPTIAN WILL BE WRITTEN IN **_ITALICS_**! Other than that, I think its pretty easy to understand.**

_Chapter 1: I've Never Even Had Puppy_

This was some kind of cruel irony, wasn't it? Even though he only had a shaky grasp on what that word meant, he was positive that this was exactly what the situation could be called.

"I would like to point out," Jonathan said trying to talk his away out of what he felt was imminent death. "That I had very little to do with your failed plan to take over the world using Anubis's army. In fact, when you thought you saw me threw that spear, which led to your inevitable defeat, you were actually hallucinating. Really."

"_What have you done, mortal? Why did you bring me here?"_ Imhotep demanded. "_I do not wish to be here!"_

Right about now Rick and Evie would come bursting into the room, guns blazing, fully armed with magical Egyptian books to send the mummy away from here. That is to say, away from him. Where the mummy ended up after that, Jonathan didn't really care.

"All right, so maybe you didn't hallucinate that. But I wasn't the one who stabbed the scorpion king! And, and, well, I had nothing to do with the fact that you died!" Jonathan whimpered, feeling familiar feelings of hysterics about to completely over take him. He had to get out of here before they did and sent him into a corner, utterly incapable of doing anything but useless panicking.

Okay, Jonathan thought. You're on your own old boy. No family to save you now. So what is the plan of action?

Running, he thought wildly. Running for your life was a brilliant idea. Unless, of course, the person who would be chasing you was less of a person and more an ancient Egyptian mummy with the ability to turn into a whirl-wind and would have no problem hunting you down faster than you could scream.

Well, probably not faster than he could scream, since he was a champion screamer, something he prided himself on in the privacy of his own mind. If there was an actual sport-

No, no, concentrate, he reprimanded himself. Just because you suddenly remembered you have never written out your will is no reason to loose your cool. Not that you'll be leaving much behind. Oh, cruel, cruel world, was it too much to ask for a little wealth for all that you made me go through?

"_I demand to be sent back!"_ Imhotep yelled. "_I-"_

"See, I knew you would eventually be overcome with fear and pass out because of terror! I am such an imposing person, after all," Jonathan bragged.

He paused.

The mummy had apparently passed out for no good reason. Now was the perfect opportunity for escape to the nearest airplane, which he could promptly hop and go back to England in, informing Rick and Evie of the little problem down in Egypt, and as a show of good will for not taking care of said problem he would even remember the artifact.

So why was he not running? And what was this odd feeling?

Oh dear god, was he feeling sorry for the wicked, maniacal, foul, malevolent, evil mummy?

Why was he walking over to the chair? That was far to close of the mummy! Run fool, run while you still can, he screamed at himself.

But it would seem that even he wouldn't listen to himself.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………

He would really have to complain to the management about letting strange mummy's into his room while he wasn't here. Then he was going to complain to that museum owner for having such a creepy museum. Then the cab driver was going to get an earful for having the gall to drop him off when he asked. And finally, he was going to rave at Evie for putting him in this position. It was her fault! She had started everything by simply awakening the mummy about a decade ago.

Never again, he swore. He would go and live out in the street with the rats before he would pick up any artifacts again.

Perhaps he would even look into getting a job if he got back to England. But since it seemed that even he was out to kill himself, the chances were getting slimmer and slimmer that he would ever leave Egypt…not in a coffin.

It would serve everyone right if he came back as an angry, evil mummy he decided. Perhaps he would even join up with Imhotep- no, he was Jonathan. He would have his own empire and terrifying theme song.

Maybe they'd even make a movie out of him one day.

Imhotep stirred a little.

"Please, let him die in his sleep," Jonathan prayed.

Imhotep opened his eyes.

"Or strike me down with lighting. Please don't let him torture me," Jonathan begged.

"_You,"_ Imhotep hissed.

"You're putting a curse on me, aren't you?" Jonathan sighed. "I knew it! My eyeballs are going to explode and then my insides will drip out my ears, and then-"

"_You are still here,"_ Imhotep continued.

"More likely than not you'll feast on my brains and perform some ritual with my skin that will revive your dead girlfriend," Jonathan finished dramatically. "Well, do it as quickly as you can, I don't wish to suffer!"

"_Why did you not run?"_ Imhotep asked in amazement.

"This is a very long chant, isn't it?"

"_Why do you not seem to fear me?" _Imhotep questioned.

His eyeballs hadn't exploded yet, Jonathan noted. A foolish flicker of hope appeared. Maybe the mummy wasn't going to invoke some form of horrible magic upon him. Maybe the mummy was simply trying to speak with him.

"I've gone completely insane, haven't I?" Jonathan said to no one in particular, since no one was there to really listen to him. "All right, listen, Imhotep, I do not speak ancient Egyptian. So unless you speak English, I'm afraid we are going to have very little by way of actual dialogue."

Whether Imhotep understood any of that beyond his name Jonathan didn't really know. What he did know was that now the mummy was staring at him expectantly. Come to think of it, unless he called Evie and Rick, the mummy was his to deal with.

He couldn't remember the last time someone had been his to deal with. This was the very reason he had never had a pet, he was very bad with responsibility.

Perhaps he should have gotten a dog as a child after all.

"I suppose," Jonathan said carefully. "We'll need a translator."

But who on earth, besides Evie and Alex, spoke ancient Egyptian?

_**Author Notes: Wow, I was really surprised at how many people reviewed. Thank you so much everyone who did! Now, there was someone who sent me a PM offering to give me links to other fics, but I'm afraid that I've lost that one in my inbox because I wasn't able to respond right away, so if whoever did that reads this, then yes I would like the links to the fics you mentioned. **_

_**I realize it has been a while since I posted up the prologue, but I hope that it hasn't been too long and there are still people who want to read this. Anyway, for any one who read this, I hope you enjoyed it. And don't despair, I will post up the next chapter eventually, it's just that I have other stories I'm working on, so that's why it's been taking so long to get this up. Sorry! Remo**_

_**Oh, and I did reply to all the reviews that were signed. If there were any unsigned reviews, then I'm sorry, I'll answer you're in the next chapter!**_

**Oh, and if you don't review, I will track you down with the Millennium Ring and then use the Millennium Rod on you, so you'll end up reviewing anyway (pardon the Yu-Gi-Oh reference) so you might as well save me the trouble and review before I'm forced to do that. **


	3. Chapter 3

_**Disclaimer: I'm going to assume we all understand that I am in no way affiliated with the money or making money off this story. Also, I would hope by now we all understand that everything in italics is ancient Egyptian…**_

Chapter 2: Nothing but Gratitude

Those Medjai did, Jonathan was fairly certain. But there was that little issue of their only real goal in life to save the world from darkness, i.e. Imhotep, and for some reason he didn't seem them putting that away to help him. Bloody grudges. Why not let bygones be bygones, he always said.

"I don't suppose you have any suggestions, do you old chap?" he asked, torn between berating himself for joking around with the mummy and actually wishing he'd get a response. In English.

But he felt pretty safe betting the cold stare he received was a no. Or a "talk to me again, petty mortal, and I'll eat your spleen." And therein lay the reason he'd never gone into motivational speaking. He was far too ready to piss himself at the drop of a hat and give up that second.

That may be something he needed to work on.

"Well, we aren't going to solve this problem by staying here at any rate," Jonathan decided. "Come on."

Dear lord, he was giving the homicidal mummy orders! Without men carrying large guns anywhere in sight! His sister would never believe it…which was probably just as well. Why couldn't he have been the one in the family who spoke ancient Egyptian? Especially since the ones who did were not in the slightest bit helpful right now. In fact, if it wasn't for them he wouldn't be in this situation right now!

The mummy wasn't coming.

"Er, this way?" Jonathan rephrased hopefully. Imhotep blinked solemnly.

"_Where are you going?"_ he asked, staring at the man who proceeded to make strange arm movements at him.

Jonathan sighed. So dramatic gestures were out. And now the mummy was glaring at him. Gulping, he quickly ran through the goodbye cruel world speech in his head. One had to be ready to give it at the drop of a hat in situations like this.

There appeared to be only one way left to get this basic message of motion across. Jonathan was more than ready to admit he may have some suicidal tendencies that until today he hadn't been aware of, but for god's sake he had to draw the line somewhere! Preferably before he actually died.

But, he had no one to blame for this but himself. Well, and whatever sick powers had brought the mummy back this time. The point was, regardless of whether Imhotep sucked his brains out the second they touched, since he had made the choice to ignore his opportunity to run he was just going to have to man up and take charge of the situation the only way left to him.

Right after he got over this mild panic attack.

"_You have no right to touch me,"_ Imhotep hissed the instant the strange man clasped their hands together.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Please don't kill me. I'm sorry," Jonathan spluttered, trying not to tremble. After all, wasn't there a saying about evil high priest and fear?

No?

There should be.

"_Let go of me."_ The last person to touch him out of anything but violence…he didn't think that betrayal would ever ease. All of that time, wasted. And his love- "_Release me at once."_

"I'm sorry. I'm too young to die. I'm sorry," Jonathan babbled on, trying in what was beginning to seem a vain attempt to pluck up his courage. The mummy trying to chat with him in ancient Egyptian was not as soothing on the nerves as one might think. On the bright side, as long as he didn't feel his blood start to boil Jonathan was going to remain optimistic: the mummy wasn't cursing him.

"_Unhand me or suffer the consequences," _Imhotep threatened.

Oh who was he kidding, Jonathan nearly sobbed aloud, he was going to die!

The man was beginning to shake, Imhotep noted. So then, he was not as fearless as originally assumed.

"_You're right to fear me. No one is this impertinent with me and gets away with it. Let go. I don't wish to kill you."_ But the man ignored that warning as well and did something quite opposite. He tugged on Imhotep's hand and took a step backwards.

"If this doesn't get the point across, then can I make a request? I'd like my death to be one of those that's so quick you're dead before you even notice."

Another tug, another step backwards. Thus far no hand had been shoved into his chest, ripping out his heart to keep as a trophy. This was promising.

"_Where are you taking me?"_ Imhotep asked suspiciously. "_And why aren't you letting go? I'm quite capable of walking without being led like a child."_

"Er, can I let go now?" Jonathan asked, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in his stomach that was screaming that last batch of gibberish was a spell of infertility. Making an executive decision –aided by the mummy's persistent glaring- he let go, feeling fairly confident that if he walked out of the hotel he'd be followed.

And if he wasn't, well he wasn't going to complain.

"Okay then, let's go!" he said with false cheeriness.

Then the phone rang.

"Er, wait here would you?" Jonathan requested, making a mad dash for the phone. The mummy continued to glare. Jonathan was beginning to suspect he was going for a world record. Jonathan wished him the best of luck and picked up the phone.

"Jonathan, I demand to know where my artifact is!"

"Evie!" She always did have fabulously bad timing… "How the hell did you get this number?"

"Well I called the hotel earlier and they said you were out and then they gave me a direct route to your room's phone, which I thought was very considerate of them," Evie blathered on, rounding off with another, "So where is my artifact?"

"I just got it this morning!" Jonathan protested. "I can't very well simply poof it to you!"

"Well what are you doing? You're packing, right? Getting ready to bring it back to me?"

"Well you see, sis, I've run into a small…complication," Jonathan said, eyeing the mummy. Who was standing very, very still. And looking back at him. And not blinking.

"Jonathan, don't tell me you lost it- or heaven forbid- broke it," Evie said in exasperation.

"No, no, nothing of the sort. I'm wounded by your lack of confidence."

"Well as soon as you do something to deserve my confidence you'll have it. Now what is this complication you've run into exactly?" Evie demanded.

You remember a few years back when you read from a certain book and brought back a certain evil high priest? Guess what! I found him, and for god knows what reason I feel compelled to help him out. Well, unless he tries to take over the world again. In that instance I will call you and Rick so you can take care of it.

Yeah, she probably wouldn't take that well…

"It's difficult to explain, I'm afraid." And then Jonathan was struck with a stroke of genius. "But you wouldn't happen to remember any old colleges of yours here in Cairo that might be fluent in ancient Egyptian, would you?"

"I think Stephen Warren is there right now. But Jonathan," Evie asked, suspicion clearly evident in her voice. "Why exactly do you need someone who can speak ancient Egyptian?"

"A bit of a translation problem, I'm afraid. So could you tell me where I might be able to find him?" Jonathan asked, crossing his fingers.

"A bit of a translation problem? He's supposed to be working in the small museum I used to this summer. But really, Jonathan. What exactly do you mean by a bit of a translation problem? Do you-"

"Good bye, Evie. I'll get you your artifact soon. Watch the mail."

"Jonathan, you cannot mail me-"

He looked at Imhotep.

"I hope you realize I hung up on my sister for you, something which I going to come back to bite me in the ass later. I expect nothing but undying gratitude from you as soon as we find this Stephen Warren fellow."

Shockingly, Imhotep made no reply.

**Author Notes: People say that genius cannot be rushed. Therefore if someone has any genius to spare, it would be much appreciated because then I'd have an excuse as to why it takes so long for me to update this fic. On the bright side, I did finish one of the fanfics that I was working on while I let this one stew, so to everyone who is still reading this story (not that I imagine there are still any…) it wasn't as though I was ignoring you for nothing. Anyway, I'm sorry that chapters for this aren't longer. However, the chapter was originally going to end with Jonathan going, "Evie!" so it did end up longer than originally planned…**

**Last chapter I said I'd reply to the unsigned review for chapter one…but now I kind of figure it's been so long that no one even remembers what they said, so thank you to: reader, **Lucky Fannah aka Sheri, slantedview, Dominique and K.D.

And thank you to the unsigned review for chapter 2: johnnycarnahan and Elena Unduli.

I did reply to all the signed reviews, though. Remo


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: The lack of slash in the movies should be a good indication of my current state of ownership.**

**Also, just as a reminder, all dialogue in italics is Ancient Egyptian.**

_Chapter 3: Things Possible_

They were big, throbbing thumbs on this dusty, godforsaken street. Why was it that anyone who was ever of any real help could not manage to work in a shiny, new, easily accessible museum? Really, Jonathan thought, huffing and puffing his way past shady looking characters in suspicious looking side alleys whose only thoughts were obviously where it would be most convenient to dump his body after rummaging through his pockets for any nonexistent valuables, it was all one big sick karmic joke. You gamble a little money, lie to a few women, and accidentally find the map to the spot where all the pharaohs' treasure is buried and suddenly everyone's out to get you.

Considering how he had turned out to be such a kind and caring person, did he really deserve this Stephen Warren fellow to be nearly impossible to find on the hottest day in all of recorded history?

Of course, that was even before not thinking about who he was speed walking next to- and he was so much more of an amble along aimlessly 'til something hits you kind of guy anyway. What a fine pair they made, a middle age man sweating in his utterly British outfit and his companion wearing only tattered robes. While clothes were made to last in the old days, Jonathan felt certain that wearing them for a few thousand years was pushing it. Mental note then: after picking up this Warren they were going to go clothes shopping.

A kind of detached hysteria hovered in his mind as he contemplated the thought. Clothes shopping. With Imhotep. Dear lord, he had lost it, hadn't he?

At the very least he was pretty sure they'd finally reached the museum. Since the last time he'd seen it he'd been running away from hordes of boil-covered mind slaves of a certain undead high priest over a decade ago and it had seen a few- emphasis on few- renovations in that time (probably out the necessity due to the aforementioned hordes) it took him a few moments to become positive.

It was now, however, that something occurred to him: they had a bigger problem- beyond the, "He's an evil high priest who tried to take over the world twice and if we happen across any medjai death will swiftly follow," thing. They were, most unfortunately, lacking a cover story. How exactly does one explain to a fellow he's never met that for an indefinite amount of time it would be lovely if he could act as a translator for this suspicious looking fellow who speaks nothing but ancient Egyptian?

Perhaps the best route would be just to kidnap him.

Jonathan looked at Imhotep, hoping his eyes could clearly convey the message, "I'm sorry to impose upon your great personage – who has no interest in ever maiming in the slightest even for asking- if there was any possible way you could spontaneously learn English. Or at least get your exceedingly brilliant plan to win over Warren across in pantomime."

Judging by the way Imhotep's return look said either he was thoroughly bored by this whole affair or Jonathan's eyes were about to become stylish decorative pieces, he was forced to accept that was a no.

He should have known only half listening to Evie all these years would come back and haunt him. But honestly, who expects to need Ancient Egyptian in day to day life?

He was probably going to have to open the door and go through it. Imhotep was looking more and more annoyed as the minutes ticked by with no new development on the going into the museum front. Jonathan would not have the third attempt on the apocalypse on his head just because he couldn't keep Imhotep properly entertained.

'Come on then, Jonathan,' he thought to himself. 'Open the door or hope he kills you quickly.' Inspired by that happy thought, he finally opened the door and entered the museum.

Considering that it was so sunny outside you couldn't look directly at the sand without being blinded by the glare, it was impressive how the main lobby managed to be both dimly lit and slightly chilly- in other words, completely creepy. If this was someone's idea of setting the mood, Jonathan was thinking he might be better off muddling through on his own. At least then he wouldn't have to worry about one companion sucking the marrow from his bones while the other rose yet another evil mummy from the dead to keep as a minion- if this Stephen Warren fit in with the current setting, that is.

There was no on at the front desk, but Jonathan wasn't surprised. He didn't remember anyone ever being there before. It was best, he knew, if Warren was anything like Evie- and he was willing to bet, excluding the possibility he worshiped Anubis fervently, that was the case- to simply head to the library and start looking there.

It was only a tiny piece of his brain that warned him Warren might not even be here today, and as it was the same voice that said, "Don't play cards with those men," and other such silly statements, he ignored it with a practiced ease.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………

The puzzling man led him through corridor after corridor- which seemed to be familiar in an even more vague sense than that which he experienced when he tried to recall aforementioned man's name. It had always been, before, superfluous. But now that it was he whom Imhotep followed and he, regardless of the man's apparent surprise at his return, who had called him back into this world, such a thing grew in importance. And until such time as he learned what purpose this man thought to use him- when he was now so clearly frightened of the former high priest- he would continue to follow him.

In this instance, with no followers and no powers he had no other choice.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………

Ah, this brought back memories of the good old days. The times when his biggest problem was men he may or may not have owed money to who wanted to collect, as opposed to whether or not the hordes of the underworld were about to be summoned because he sneezed at the wrong time.

The library was just as dusty and depressing as he remembered, if less battle worn. Warren was apparently kinder to the shelves than Evie. With any luck he would also be the top of the head protruding from what looked like a fortress of encyclopedias in the nearby corner.

Which probably meant that particular patch of hair belonged to a crazed mass murderer whose single goal in life was to put Jonathan's head on a pole. Well, there was only one way to find out.

"Excuse me."

The patch of hair shot up to reveal its attachment to a man who looked even more pathetic than Jonathan felt a great deal of the time. The patch of hair turned out to be the only hair on the head, but in comparison to the enormous spectacles that rested on a rather small face it was hardly noticeable. Jonathan wouldn't put him past five foot three and no doubt a gust of wind would do him in.

He found himself hoping this was not Stephen Warren. It wouldn't do for the translator to be even more timid than himself. Nothing would ever get done beyond a heck of a lot of stammering and even more trembling.

"Yes?" A faint inquiry came out of the man's mouth.

"Ah, are you by any chance Stephen Warren?"

"Oh!" the man said, his eyes widening to saucer proportions. "You must be Jonathan!"

Well, never let it be said that Jonathan Carnahan couldn't handle surprises. The man didn't appear to be under any sort of mind control…

"Evelyn said you'd probably be stopping by."

"You talked to Evie?" Someone had clearly forgotten to give him the script for this part. It had never crossed his mind that they'd be expected.

"Oh yes," the man shook his head fervently. "She called not too long ago. She didn't sound terribly pleased…" the man trailed off for a moment, his hands shaking for a moment, his eyes glazing over. A split second later he seemed to have recovered, however, and continued, "She said something about you needing someone to translate some Ancient Egyptian?"

"Ah," Jonathan said.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I never did answer you're question. Even though I'm sure you've figured it out by now, I am Stephen Warren. So what did you need translated?"

Jonathan wondered if it would be too simplistic to simply point at Imhotep. Warren took this time to suddenly take notice of Jonathan's companion.

"Who's this fellow? Evie never mentioned you were traveling with a friend." Certainly not first the word Jonathan would have used to describe him- or even the last.

"He's not so much my friend as the translation problem."

"Excuse me?" Warren seemed baffled. Jonathan immediately felt a very strong kinship with him. After all, aren't those who baffle together brothers?

"He only speaks Ancient Egyptian, you see. And my Arabic's too rusty to try and see if that would work," Jonathan explained. It would seem it you don't use it for over a decade, you really do lose it.

"He only speaks Ancient Egyptian?" Warren echoed. "But that's impossible."

"Believe me, I wish that was the case."

This was the part where Warren called the police. Or the crazy house. Jonathan felt he should at least be awarded points for trying.

Then something most unexpected happened.

_"You speak this language?"_ Warren said.

His nerves suddenly had to work over time to quash an inexplicable ray of hope.

Imhotep merely stared at Warren for a moment (Jonathan was sure his heart would explode from the suspense. He half hoped it would) before he said, _"Only when it is worth my time. I doubt you are."_

Warren jaw dropped.

Jonathan really hoped that was a good sign. He didn't see any brains dribbling out of the man's ears, after all.

**Author's Notes: It's only been…more than a year since I've updated. You know, I really didn't even realize how much time had passed since I looked at the last updated bit today. I'm going to hazard a guess that most people don't even remember this story at all. And length wise after such a long wait, this chapter is a bit disappointing…but really, I'm pushing it having it this long, I suppose, since I really should be working on my history essays instead. Ah well. Thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter. I have to admit, I was a really surprised at how many people did. And I hope you'll all review this chapter. I do promise the next chapter to be up much sooner than this one. –sweatdrop- I still can't believe how long it's been. –Remo**

**Thank you to all the anonymous reviewers, it's been so long you probably have no idea what you wrote, so I'm just going to mention you by name: **Lanku, Laureselde, Fern Knight, M.M., K.D., Zozothewhite, Eves awakening, Jilly, blah, Yetipie, Kodak Moment, E, daft0as0you0may0think.

**All the signed reviews, I will be answering shortly. –laughs- Mostly as a reminder that this story's still here.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: To be perfectly honest, since everyone knows I own no part of the Mummy movie franchise, the only reason I even put a disclaimer is because I like how it makes the chapter look just that little bit longer. **

**Also, just a reminder that all dialogue in **_italics_** is ancient Egyptian.**

_Chapter Four: When Insane, Talking Never Helps_

It wasn't so much that Warren was staring that bothered Jonathan as it was the half crazed look he'd seen before in another's eyes shortly before freeing a man from jail to go search for a mythical city that worried him. Either Warren was about to whip out a magnifying glass and examine Imhotep from top to bottom, or a shiny gold book was just behind the mummy. In either case, Jonathan figured he'd best intervene for the sake of all mankind.

"Ah," he began.

"This is fantastic!" Warren exclaimed.

"Excuse me?" Jonathan said, certain he'd misheard. There was certainly no part of imminent death that remotely resembled fantastic. Now, being a wealthy man on a nude beach full of exceedingly pretty women, that was fantastic. But alas, the glory days were gone, likely never to be relived. No points were awarded to the middle aged bachelor living off his sister's charity.

"Does he really speak only ancient Egyptian? _Do you really only speak this language?_ That's impossible- _impossible!_ No one speaks it!" Warren continued, apparently unsure which person he should address in which language.

"No offense in tended, and I do hate to point out the obvious," Jonathan felt he had to say, "But obviously someone speaks it. You're speaking, for goodness sake!"

"Yes, but not really. Evelyn would tell you the same thing-" Jonathan doubted that "People say Latin's a dead language, but Egyptian's really and truly dead. No one's heard it spoken in thousands of years, and since the language doesn't have any vowels written into it, the best any of us can do is stick a vowel in between where it may or may not have gone. If this man speaks ancient Egyptian- honest to god ancient Egyptian- he'll solve all of the scholarly debate. And," Warren added after a moment of consideration, "from what I've heard so far it sounds like those lads up at Oxford are going to get a big 'I told you so.'"

If he grabbed Imhotep's hand, and assuming the mummy didn't tear it off and proceed to rip him limb from limb for being presumptuous enough to touch his evilness, Jonathan figured they had a good chance of escaping the museum before Warren could do anything about it. Even if it did come to a fight, as long as Warren didn't get any back up, Jonathan had little doubt he could take the scrawny Egyptologist.

They'd probably have to cut the phone lines, too. Possibly steal the phones while they were at it- all the phones in the city as well because Warren absolutely could not tell anyone about Imhotep, especially not a certain someone back in England.

Basically, Jonathan thought, they were totally screwed. If anyone was going to get out of this alive- and by anyone, of course, he meant himself- there was really only one sensible option. And short of killing both Warren and Imhotep and fleeing to Tibet, that meant conning Warren into helping without allowing him any contact with any undesirable parties.

Never before had the desire to kill himself ever overcome Jonathan, and while it wasn't strictly as though he was fantasizing about shooting himself, he rather fancied he now at least understood the mindset of a suicidal person. Think Jonathan, think. How do you convince a mousy little Egyptologist that playing translator for a few days is a splendid idea, especially if he never speaks to anyone he knows ever again? Dammit, this would have been so much easier thirteen years ago. If this was what being noble did to you, he wanted no part of it.

"_You,_" Imhotep said out of the blue, "_Ask him why he has brought me here._"

While willing his heart to begin beating once more, Jonathan was forced to factor into his already flopping plan that Imhotep was, in fact, capable of speech. More unfortunately, capable of speaking to Warren. Who probably wouldn't live much longer if he didn't hop to whatever the mummy wanted, because that had not sounded like a chipper remark about the weather.

"Fascinating, simply fascinating," Warren murmured, staring at Imhotep like the mummy had granted his heart's deepest desire. He turned his gaze to Jonathan and for a moment Jonathan fancied he could learn to hate those bug eyes.

"This man wants to know why you brought him here," Warren said. "And, forgive me for saying so, but did you really bring him here without any explanation? Even if you don't speak the same language, kidnapping-"

"Kidnapping?" Jonathan could hardly believe his ears. After he went out of his way to do something nice- at great personal risk to himself might he add- this was the thanks he got. "Why in god's name would I kidnap him? Did he tell you who he was?" A horrible thought occurred to Jonathan. "Does he think I kidnapped him? Oh god, he doesn't, does he? Is he angry? Explain to him I brought him here so you could translate for us. Snap to it man, this is a matter of life or death!" And if he must feast on a body part to quell his anger, may it be your liver he takes, Jonathan thought darkly. Warren could look at him like he was crazy, but the other man simply didn't understand the gravity of the situation.

_"He brought you here because he wants me to act as a translator for you two,"_ Warren said, looking not nearly contrite enough for having accused Jonathan of kidnapping a minute ago. Jonathan couldn't remember why he'd thought he'd like this man. Really, just because he'd found someone who seemed in all ways more pathetic than himself- well, never again would he let his heart be tricked so. Rigorous field tests would now be required to find that one person who really made him feel superior.

_……………………………………………………………………………………………………_

Imhotep had had, over the course of the past decade or so, many people that could only be classified as minions. Generally speaking, they had been no more intelligent or useful than those he'd had as high priest. This man, whoever he was supposed to be, was quickly falling into the minion class of intelligence.

Perhaps slightly below, at that, for no minion would dare reply in such a patronizing fashion. How to rephrase the question so the man could wrap his small mind around it? Imhotep found the more time he spent on this wretched plane of existence the more he desired his former power. Besides disposing of this small wretch of a man and possibly going back to the netherworld, he would be able to understand what the man who had brought him here was saying.

The language barrier infuriated him, reminding him all the more of everything he had lost.

_"If you're not here of your own free will,"_ the man started saying, "_I could help you."_

_"I could not be forced to go anywhere I did not chose to," _Imhotep said coldly, _"Do you not realize who I am?"_

_"To be frank, I have no idea who you are,"_ the man said.

"Ah, what's he saying?" the other man said.

"_What is his name?"_ Imhotep said abruptly. Slowly, slowly but surely this situation could be brought under control. The incompetent man stared at him for longer than would have been previously tolerated, but eventually came to the decision to reply.

"Jonathan."

"What?" the other man looked nervously between the two of them.

"Jonathan," Imhotep repeated. Jonathan.

_……………………………………………………………………………………………………_

On a scale of one to infinity, where infinity was happy-go-lucky rabbits frolicking in a field of the very greenest grass, and one caused him to vow to never sleep again, Jonathan had to put Imhotep saying his name at a very close two. _One_ involved a very unpleasant dream where for no apparent reason he found himself in China, Evie turned into another woman without anyone noticing, and some godforsaken Chinese emperor decided that he should probably rise from the dead.

Nightmares aside, in the land of reality, Jonathan found it inordinately difficult to connect his brain back to his mouth and make either of them work properly, since both seemed to have run off in terror. Didn't all the best curses only work if the caster had the person's name and a lock of his hair?

"Stay away from my head! I'm losing enough hair naturally and I don't need you plucking it from my scalp!" Jonathan threw his arms up around himself protectively, only to realize two sentences two late that not only was Imhotep not making a move toward him, but Warren had- if the look on the man's face was anything to go by- decided he really had gone completely around the bend. Therefore, excluding a comet causing them all to go out like the dinosaurs in the next few minutes or a "and then there was light" kind of miracle, it was looking distinctly upward that Evie would, in the near future, be receiving a call to hurry down and pick up her crazy brother.

"Mr. Carnahan-" Warren began.

"No- wait, I'm not…I mean…you simply don't understand…" Jonathan trailed off. He must have killed innocent women and children in his past life to deserve this. Or he had been Shakespeare. Either way, his foul deeds in whatever life he had lived had without question made him karma's bitch this time around.

And just when he was about to plead for a bathroom break so he sneak out a window and run around in dark alleys so some thug could pick him off so he wouldn't have to deal with Evie, Rick, or Imhotep, a miracle happened.

"Salam," a new voice said from somewhere behind all the bookcases.

Now, Jonathan, after all he had lived through, couldn't help but believe in fate and destiny, and all that sort of thing, and as such didn't put much stock in coincidence. The fact that out of everyone in Egypt the one person that was currently making his way toward an already unstable situation was Ardeth Bay did nothing to dissuade him of this notion.

Jonathan took half a second to contemplate the repercussions of Ardeth actually seeing who was standing in the library, another half a second to realistically assess his chances of getting out of there with both Imhotep and Warren without Ardeth seeing anything, and then made his move.

"Warren," he said as loud as he dared, "If you want to learn all about ancient Egyptian from this fellow, we have to get out of here right now."

"Why?" Warren asked.

"Shh," Jonathan hissed, "If you come with me, I promise I'll tell you everything." That was certainly a promise he hoped he'd live to regret.

Warren looked at him for a moment- a moment that was far too long, in Jonathan's opinion, considering they were just a tad bit pressed for time- and while he obviously still thought Jonathan was completely off his rocker, there was still that scholarly gleam in his eye that gave away his consent even before he opened his mouth to agree.

"Fine," Warren said, "But if you lie to me-"

"May my spleen explode if I lie- now we need to go. Is there any quick way out of here?"

"Follow me."

Jonathan refrained from pointing out he really had no choice in the matter. It would just remind him of how well that statement basically summed up his life right now, and breaking down in tears would really make running for his life difficult.

**Author's Notes: It breaks my heart a little that I really can't pretend my story is canon anymore. Although, depending on how this new movie turns out, I may get to cling to my sad little fantasy. I haven't decided yet whether or not a movie with a new Evie and a different mummy really gets to count as canon. –grins- But I must admit, I'm really looking forward to seeing it for the Jonathan bits.**

**On the bright side, while it has been, yet again, almost an entire year since my last update, since it hasn't been over a year, at least I beat my last record. And I didn't fail my classes this year, so that worked out well. And once again, I have to thank all of my wonderful readers, I'm always so grateful that you take the time to read this sporadically updated story and I hope this chapter was worth the wait. I hope you'll all take the time to review, and I have to apologize and stop making promises to update sooner, because at this point even I have to admit that would be a lie. –laughs- Hopefully the next chapter will be up before next August…but I guess we'll just have to see. –Remo**

**Thank you to all the anonymous reviewers: **Fara, Lo Lo, khira leally, Me, Irishlass18, Supernaturals, Kodak Moment, K.D., Asa ReMe, Lin, Lil Nezumi

**And, as always, I'll be replying to the signed reviews.**


End file.
